Our Beginning | Mickey Altieri

Chapter Fifty-Three

Wednesday
I ditched class. Everybody just couldn't shut up about my wound from the attack at the sorority house. And I really thought the word around would fade sooner or later.
I walk toward the student commons area. It's the grassy area where we just sit and conjugate. Since Mick is in class, it means that I'm all alone. Which isn't necessarily bad, I like to have alone time.

"Y/n?" That voice. The same voice I have heard in a while. And I'm glad it's not Debbie. I turned around and it's Gale, on the phone.

"Gale?" For the first time, I felt relieved. Well, I'm just glad it's not the flashy reporter to begin with. And anyone should know who I really mean. Debbie, obviously. I was just about to speak until she spoke to the phone. Saying, "The interview's not going to happen. I changed my mind. I've harassed the girl enough. It's in poor taste and a bad idea."

"Your entire career is in poor taste."

"Excuse me, you wouldn't mind if I could-" After snatching the phone from Gale's grasp, I'm going to make this my turn now. "The only poor taste that's up right now are your looks, attitude, and words. Grow up for fucks sake, you desperate virgin." I hung up without another word.

Gale smiles and looks up to Dewey. I didn't see him around here. "Hey, Dewey," I said, smiling. He smiles back. Getting up from his spot, he pats my shoulder. "How's it going with your wound?"
"It's been alright. Do you know when I'm going to have it removed?"

"Only a few days, and you'll be back for removal." Now, he looks up to Gale. "So, what made you change your mind about Sidney?"

"Mood swings. I'm a maniac depressive."

"You're a hard one to figure out."

"It's a complex yet shallow quality. It's deliberate."

"I think you're all an act."

"And deep down I'm a good person? Make no mistake, Dewey. I'm a shit."

"I know that."

"Yeah?"
I just took a couple steps back, sitting down, and suddenly watching what is going on without a word.

"I also know that you're an aging TV reporter slash writer who, despite huge tabloid success, has some self worth issues regarding your personal life which directly effects your professional life in a non-positive manner. A couple of failed relationships with—I'm guessing balding, older men—have turned you into this bitch with a cell phone. But I bet sometimes, late at night, when you're all alone a sadness seeps to the surface and in a moment of clarity you know that all you really want is to be touched and held and fondled."

My jaw dropped. Gale stares at him, stunned. A moment as the tension swirls about them.

"And where did you gain all of your Gale Weathers' insight?" She asks him. Dewey approaches her. I guess Gale has never been more taken with him. They're even standing incredibly close too.

"After my spinal cord was damaged, I was laid up for over a year. A lot can happen when you're on your back."

And they're nearly touching now. 'I'm uncomfortable all of a sudden.' God, it looks like they're about to make-out. But just then, Randy approaches.

"Hey, what'd I miss?"

"Thank you, Randy," I whispered, sighing in relief. "Oh, hey N/n," I heard him say. I give him a smile, greeting him back as I pat an empty spot near me.
Gale backs away from Dewey, breathless. I felt Randy's presence leaning closer to me as he whispers to me. "What's with them?"

"I guess a lot of things."

Gale sat beside me on the opposite side. Dewey just stood there, tapping his foot in place until he remembered that I'm still here. "Y/n, shouldn't you be in class?"